


The Smell of Alcohol Wafting In

by Garden_Beast



Series: Aftertaste [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Drinking, M/M, Victor is a good partner, bar setting, help him, yuuri's anxiety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-27
Updated: 2017-01-27
Packaged: 2018-09-20 04:16:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9475286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Garden_Beast/pseuds/Garden_Beast
Summary: All it takes is a little bit of tequila and a pint of beer to get Phichit to talk.





	

It was two tequila shots and one pint of beer before Phichit spilled the beans. It started with Victor saying something about Yuuri’s ‘innocent exterior’ and largely ended when Phichit slammed his empty glass down on the table and exclaimed that, “You didn’t know him in college!” 

 

It was all downhill from there, Victor’s jaw dropping open and eyes shining with curious excitement. He turned to Yuuri in silent shock, before wrenching his entire body in Phichit’s direction with a grinning, “Go on.” Yuuri hadn’t expected to be excluded from a conversation about him over the course of their last night in Thailand, but Victor did love surprises. Yuuri only stared for a moment at Phichit, wondering-- no. He wouldn’t… Over Victor’s shoulder he squinted distrustfully at Phichit, in some silent attempt to avoid having him mention their little experiments-- 

 

“Do we start with his gay awakening or the posters of you on his wall?” He began, already on the wrong foot, leaving Yuuri to only place his head in his hands and wish he could sink into the nearest hole. 

 

“He had posters of me?” Victor was looking at him, snaking an arm around Yuuri’s shoulder and grinning at him. “Were you a fan?” Oh, god. No. This conversation was inevitable, but-- oh, good god. 

 

“... A little,” he admitted softly, burying his face into Victor’s shoulder and silently wishing he’d ordered something harder than a Shirley Temple. If he could just block out this conversation, that would be a miracle. At least Victor only kissed his temple, more… Happy, really, than angry or betrayed.    
  
“Sweet thing,” he muttered in Yuuri’s ear, before turning back to Phichit so hard Yuuri could almost feel the whiplash in Victor’s neck. “Let’s start with the posters.” 

 

“He had so  _ many  _ of you! I mean, everyone in figure skating’s a fan, but jeez--” Yuuri buried his face harder into Victor’s shoulder, feet tapping fast on the ground so as to drown out the sound of Phichit’s damned  _ talking _ \-- “Your face was everywhere in the room! I thought he was some obsessive!” 

 

Victor only rubbed at Yuuri’s shoulder, pausing to kiss at his hair. Yuuri still felt deeply ( _ deeply _ ) embarrassed, but-- no one else seemed to be listening. Even Victor was… remarkably alright. “Looking back, I kind of was.” 

 

“Mm, it’s alright,” Victor replied, comforting him-- “I did the same with pictures of you on my laptop.” 

 

Immediately, Yuuri pulled back and looked at his partner. He looked at Phichit, who looked just as bemused back. “Huh?” They both asked in unison. 

Wha-- no. No, that-- Victor Nikiforov could not have masturbated to pictures of him. Yuuri went quiet, staring at him, waiting for a response as his fiancé only grew red in the face. “I’m not ashamed,” he insisted, taking another sip of his beer and setting it down, cool and casual as his fiancé and friend stared at him in astonishment. 

 

“When did this start?” Phichit asked, leaning onto one hand and nursing his empty glass of beer. “In Hasetsu, or…?”    
  


“Oh, no. I’m guessing… What, right after the banquet?” Oh. Oh, god. It was Yuuri’s turn to blush, now, because  _ dammit  _ that banquet had to follow him even to this. Yuuri laid his head down on the table, covering his eyes with his hands. Victor had-- no. Impossible. Not after the mess he’d made during that banquet, how  _ dumb  _ he’d acted… Carefully, he lifted his hand out of his eyes to peek up at Victor, to see his expression. Was he mad? Embarrassed? “Cutie,” Victor answered, leaning down to kiss his forehead, pausing to whisper in his ear, “I’ll tell you all about that back at the hotel room.” Yuuri only bit his lips shut and turned away to hide his blush, sneaking one hand back from his eyes to hold Victor’s hand. Sitting up with a squeeze to Yuuri’s hand, Victor continued, “So, the gay awakening?” 

 

God, dammit. 

 

“Well, it started a little after he turned twenty-one. I had a fake, and Francis was also twenty-one-- she’s always been straight-laced-- and we were all at Delux and dancing for awhile, when Yuuri outright disappears--”    
  
“Phichit,” Yuuri warned from his gloomy corner of the table, “Don’t.”

 

“Okay, he was dancing up against a guy in the middle of the floor, and you could see in their  _ body language _ \--” 

 

“Oh my god,” Yuuri interrupted, taking a long, miserable sip of his Shirley Temple. This couldn’t be happening. 

 

“--That they were both getting hard,” Phichit continued quickly, undeterred and grinning, “And  _ then  _ Yuuri disappears for awhile, and comes back, what, two minutes later?” Yuuri put his head in his hands and just waited for the torture to be over. “And he’s clearly nervous, his hair’s a mess, and he goes-- ‘We’ve got to get out of here.’ At first,” Phichit paused to drink up the last dregs of his beer, before continuing, “We thought he’d been attacked or something. So we all get out, and we’re all, like, ready to call the police or something, when Yuuri tells us that they were getting into the bathroom and making out when Yuuri just… Got nervous and ran out?!” Here, both Phichit and Victor paused for a laugh, Victor all the while squeezing Yuuri’s hand in a silent message of, ‘It’s okay.’ “And that was pretty much his first and last-- wait, no.” Phichit placed one solitary finger on his lips in thought, “He did go all the way a few times--”    
  
And that was about it. “Okay, time to get going!” Yuuri shouted, standing up and raising his hand in request of a check. Phichit was drunk, that was-- not acceptable at all, and  _ dammit _ , he’d told Phichit to keep quiet. It was so wrong of him back then, to do that to Victor-- to pull someone else into a fantasy, to have lost his virginity to Phichit-- he didn’t know how Victor would react. What if he was mad? Jealous? Didn’t trust him around Phichit anymore? It had happened a few times back when they were in college, it was-- it was-- his face was red and tears were just about ready to prickle at his eyes. He looked to his fiancé, clearly distressed, and asked him, “Can we just drop it?” 

 

“Hey,” Victor whispered, running a hand through Yuuri’s hair, “We’ll be right back, okay, Phichit?” 

 

“...Um. Yeah,” Phichit answered, watching as Victor walked Yuuri out of the bar and into the street.

 

Outside, it was-- so much better. Less hot, less claustrophobic, less Phichit  _ talking _ . “Hey,” Victor began, holding Yuuri close in a comforting hug, “You okay? I’m sorry, I pushed too far. I--” 

 

“No, no, it’s…” There was no way to explain this. No way to have Victor understand, but if they left it now, he’d be suspicious… “I had sex with Phichit.” All the color drained out of Victor’s face, and he stepped back, shoving his hands in his pocket. 

 

When he asked, “When?” he did so with no expression on his face, and that one step-- Yuuri had never seen a gap so large. 

 

The tears that were prickling at his eyes began to fall, and he looked away as he explained, “Ba-- back in college, when we lived together, we were drunk, and-- and-- a few times af--”    
  
“Oh. Oh, god.” Immediately Victor was back, holding him and stroking his fingers through Yuuri’s hair, “God, I thought you meant-- recently, while you were with me. I can’t-- wow, that was one misunderstanding. Shh,” Victor shushed, “Sorry. That was my fault. God, Yuuri, I-- I really should have listened to you, there. That was wrong of me. I’m sorry.”    
  
Wrong of  _ him _ ? What was Victor saying? Yuuri had-- he’d-- “But we--!” 

 

“Had sex in college, yeah. Yuuri, that’s completely fine. I’m not going to get jealous over something that happened, what, years ago?” Holding Yuuri at arm’s length, Victor looked at him. And he was smiling-- he wasn’t mad, he wasn’t sad, or hurt, or-- “Yuuri, that’s alright. You didn’t do anything wrong. Okay, baby?” 

 

Once more, Yuuri was held close to Victor’s chest, and… god, he’d needed this. He took a few deep breaths, listening closely to Victor’s heartbeat-- faster than usual-- and closing his eyes. He was sure they were swollen; even a few tears did that to him, leaving his eyes red and puffy, and… Well. He was so tired; he’d not even had anything to drink. And in the relative quiet of the street, he felt, well… By far more peaceful. “We pretended he was you,” Yuuri mumbled into Victor’s shirt, nuzzling quietly at the fabric there. 

 

“Hm?” 

 

Yuuri gritted his teeth together in an effort to gain the courage to say it again, before finally-- “We pretended he was you.” Louder this time. 

 

Victor went still, and that was it. That was the end of their relationship. Yuuri was silently preparing for the reaction-- it would be the feather that broke the camel’s back, it would be him walking out into the night and asking Yuuri by text to move out of the apartment and back to Hasetsu, that Victor couldn’t work with someone like him. “...You fantasized about me with another person? Years ago?” 

 

Again with the tears-- couldn’t they stop for once tonight? “Um,” Yuuri began, breath in his throat-- please, no, this couldn’t be happening. “Yes?” 

 

A few excruciating seconds ticked by, and Yuuri was going to lose the love of his life. He was going to lose Victor Nikiforov, the man he’d never deserved in the first place, and it was almost too crushing. And then Victor took a breath to speak, and Yuuri squeezed his eyes shut for some protection as he heard it, the ‘I can’t do this’, the ‘I didn’t know you were this way.’ Oh, god-- 

 

“Can I make those fantasies come true?” 

 

Wait. Yuuri pulled back, tears very clearly in his eyes, and looked his fiancé in the face. “What?” 

 

“Well,” Victor answered, bashful and running a hand through his hair, “I’d like a chance at, well. Making those come true, if I can. If you want.” 

 

Yuuri looked at his partner, at Victor Nikiforov, living legend, world champion figure skater-- and apparent angel. “Um.” What was he supposed to say? ‘Yes, please?’ ‘You’ve already made every fantasy come true and more?’ ‘You’re the love of my life?’ “Yeah. Okay. Yes. Good.” 

  
  
  
  
  



End file.
